


Magpie

by astrid (alharper)



Series: Magpie [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consent Issues, M/M, ROLLS UP 3 GD XPACS LATE HOLDING STARBUCKS yo what i miss, anything major I’ll mention in AN, tags will update as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alharper/pseuds/astrid
Summary: In the summer of Anduin’s 17th year, the Iron Horde appears out of the Dark Portal led by Grom and Garrosh Hellscream.  They march north, leaving a broad path of devastation, and by the time the Alliance has mobilized forces to combat them, Ashenvale is burning.





	Magpie

This is how it begins.

In the summer of Anduin’s 17th year, the Iron Horde appears out of the Dark Portal led by Grom and Garrosh Hellscream. They march north, leaving a broad path of devastation, and by the time the Alliance has mobilized forces to combat them, Ashenvale is burning.

Tyrande falls first, an achingly lucky shot piercing her heart from halfway across the field, and Malfurion screams - loud, and shocking, and _wounded_. Teal hair and the limp line of her calves are all that's visible in his arms as he mutates before the eyes of his horrified allies into some monster of the emerald nightmare, disappearing into some combination of bear and owlbeast with great Sentinel wings, a fresh and terrible harpy like creature that launches into the air. They don’t see him again.

Some archdruid appears, but they scatter all the same; Teldrassil is occupied and their leaders are gone, so the night elves disappear, melt into the countryside like mist.

Three days after landfall is whispered about the Eastern Kingdoms, Moira disappears and takes the dark iron dwarves with her.

It takes them less than three months to kick the Alliance out of Kalimdor, and by the time they are sweeping south from Lordaeron, the final blush of Autumn is only just beginning to fade.

Anduin does not see his father die - is in fact shoved bodily through the white-blue flash of a portal by his father and Jaina’s combined determination to stumble backwards into nearly abandoned throneroom of Stormwind when the pale light of Dun Morogh is blighted by a cloud of bat riders - but they receive no word, and he knows well enough what it means when the tram tunnel is collapsed beneath the Wetlands by gnomish explosives.

When the Iron Horde descends upon Stormwind less than two weeks later, outfitted for intimidation, raucous with victory and still wet with the blood of Stormwind’s countrymen, they are led by Garrosh personally, and Anduin very much expects to die.

But his city has lost its warrior force to the final push in Ironforge, and he is now the sole guardian of a group of elders, children and the infirm. So he leaves the gate open, and he prepares to plead his case; a tiny figure barely out of childhood, calm and resolute, golden in the sun and completely alone on a beautiful bridge lined with larger than life heroes, now dead.

A delicate silver circlet sits upon his brow and he is in robes - the soft cloth of diplomatic office, not the formal plate of a nation at war - and Garrosh Hellscream dismounts in one easy movement from a dire wolf, larger than any horse Anduin has ever seen, to stand looking down at him, even larger than he remembered him being at fifteen; huge and intimidating and smug.

But he was raise Anduin Llane Wrynn, a prince of Stormwind - now presumptive King - and he does not cower. He bows, in the human style, his clear voice ringing in surprisingly good, Durotar-accented Orcish:

“Victory is yours, Warchief Hellscream.”

He then switches to common to say, “We humbly beg your audience.”

“Why start in orcish, only to switch to your own tongue?”

“I was not taught the terms of surrender in your language, Warchief,” he replies with dignity.

Hellscream laughs, and to Anduin’s ears, the sound is just terrible as Malfurion’s screams had been.


End file.
